Sins of the Cities of the Plain

Sins of the Cities of the Plain

     
Jack Saul

CHAPTER I. An Introduction

     The writer of these notes was walking through Leicester Square one sunny afternoon last November, when my attention was particularly taken by an effeminate, but very good-looking young fellow. He was walking in front of me, looking in shop-windows from time to time, and, now and then looking ‘round as if to attract my attention.

     Dressed in tight-fitting clothes, which set off his Adonis-like figure to the best advantage, especially about what snobs would call the fork of his trousers. Evidently, he was favoured by nature by a very extraordinary development of the male appendage; it appeared as if a tremendous length of sausage had been stuffed down along the thigh of his right leg, setting in relief an hypnotic tube from which my eyes were hard-pressed to leave. By the sizeable accompaniment of bulges through the pleats, I should say his balls were gigantic as well. Whatever his age or appearance, I knew that further investigation was certainly warranted.

     He had small and elegant feet, set off by pretty patent leather boots, a fresh looking beardless face, and almost feminine features. He wore auburn hair, and sparkling blue eyes, which spoke as plainly as possible to my senses, and told me that this handsome youth must indeed be one of the “Mary-Ann’s” of London, who I had heard were often to be seen sauntering in the neighbourhood of Regent Street, or the Haymarket, on fine afternoons or evenings.

     Presently the object of my curiosity slowed and turned to face me, as he took off his hat, and wiped his face with a beautiful white silk handkerchief.

     The lump in his trousers had quite a fascinating effect upon me. Was it natural or made up by some artificial means? If real, what could be its size when excited? How I should like to handle such a manly jewel! Why, I would run the palm of my hand down its great length, and binding it in my fingers I would surely pull at it until it began to thicken and rise before my eyes. Wetting it with spittle to facilitate further frigging, I would watch and grin as it gleamed and wriggled in my hand, slowly climbing its way to its full and remarkable height. Perhaps his breath taking cock would need the two of my hands to frig it, as one would be too small to fit properly ‘round its girth. Then two it would be; and I would pull at it up and down until his breathing became short and sharp. Then, without mercy or thought to elongating his pleasure, I would quicken my pace and set him aflame with anticipation for the coming explosion. Faster would I pull and tug o’er the grand length of this marvelous cock I had discovered, gleeful at the reddening of its head as it begins to drool and expands to its greatest proportions. Then, stammering under the intensity of my work, he would release himself to the heavens, and his swollen member would finally burst with boiling streams of creamy spendings. Jet after jet of it would rise and arc o’er his body, falling to splatter upon his chest and belly, flowing down into the nest of hair within the crook of his thighs.

     All this ran through my mind, and determined me to make his acquaintance, in order to unravel the real and naked truth; also, if possible, to glean what I could of his antecedents and mode of life, which I felt sure must be extraordinarily interesting.

     When he moved on again I noticed that he turned down a little side street, and was looking in a picture shop. I followed him, and strolled in after him upon his decision to enter. The two of us, our backs at first set to one another, explored the shop in casual silence. My hesitant glances caught the edges of his pouted lips as they curled into the tiniest, most precious of grins, and from there I knew, as they say, that the game was afoot:

     “Now there’s a fine looking lass,” I commented, waving my walking stick at the photographic portrait of some non-descript beauty.

     “Yes,” said my well-endowed friend. “Quite strapping, actually. A bit older than my usual taste, but still quite well-formed.”

     “And such scanty drapery upon the gams of that one over there, don’t you think?” said I, as I waved at the picture of some buxom stage actress upon the opposing wall.

     “I do say, there ought to be a law, oughtn’t there,” he commented. “Why, you could see the very flesh of her thighs through her skirts. They appear quite muscular to me, and not as plump as many of the others, or is that my imagining?”

     “Why indeed it would seem so!” I exclaimed; though lowering my voice, I joyfully escalated the charade. “Those legs of hers do seem to fairly bulge with musculature. Perhaps she dances. If she were a dancer, I would wager her hindquarters would be quite—tight, from such persistent tension, that is, wouldn’t you think?”

     “Why, yes, indeed.” he smiled. “You are quite perceptive, for I would certainly gamble that her arse is more than firm and muscular and so very tight, to match those extraordinary thighs and calves. In fact, I should think those jaws of hers—”

     “Yes—yes, of course,” I interrupted. This conversation was rapidly becoming unsafe to continue in such a public locale. My cheeks felt warm and were most probably quite pinkened. The cock in my drawers was ripening to a full stand, and the vulgar lump it was putting into my trousers would prove an embarrassment were I approached by some earnest employee of that place. “It appears we have much in common, young man. If it pleases you, I would much like to continue our conversation in some other, more appropriate locale. Perhaps you would enjoy taking a glass of wine with me at the bistro across the square.”

     “That sounds positively delicious,” said he, “but though I would love to pursue this business with you, I have lately grown tired of that bistro. Yes, I am quite bored with most every cafe and tavern in the square. Perhaps you might have some alternative...”

     “Well,” I said, “would you mind if we take a cab to my chambers? I live in the Cornwall Mansions, close to Baker Street Station. We shall have a cigar and a chat, as I see you are evidently a fast young chap and can put me up to a thing or two.”

     “All right. Put your things up, I suppose you mean. Why do you seem so afraid to say what you want?” he replied with a most meaningful look.

     “I’m not at all delicate; but wish to keep myself out of trouble. Who can tell who hears you out in the streets?” I said, hailing a cab. “I don’t like to be seen speaking to a young fellow in the street. We shall be all right in my own rooms.”

     It was just about my dinner hour when we reached my place, so I rang the bell, and ordered my old housekeeper to lay the table for two. Both of us did ample justice to a good rumpsteak and oyster sauce, topped up with a couple of bottles of champagne of an extra dry brand.

     As soon as the cloth was removed, we settled ourselves comfortably over the fire with brandy and cigars, for it was a sharp, frosty day out.

     “My boy, I hope you enjoyed your dinner?” I said, mixing a couple of good warm glasses of brandy, “but you have not favoured me with your name. Mine you could have seen by the little plate on my door, is Mr. Cambon.”

     “Saul, Jack Saul, sir, of Lisle Street, Leicester Square, and ready for a lark with a free gentleman at any time. What was it made you take a fancy to me? Did you observe any particularly interesting points about your humble servant?” He slyly looked down towards the prominent part I have previously mentioned.

     “You seem a fine figure, and so evidently well hung that I had quite a fancy to satisfy my curiosity about it. Is it real or made up for show?” I asked.

     “As real as my face, sir, and a great deal prettier. Did you ever see a finer tosser in your life?” he replied, opening his trousers and exposing a tremendous prick, which was already in a half-standing state. “It’s my only fortune, sir; and often introduces me to the best of society’s discerning gentlemen. But it really provides for all I could want. There isn’t a girl about Leicester Square but what would like to have me for her man, but I find it more to my interest not to waste my strength on women. These clandestine games pay so well, and are quite more enjoyable. I wouldn’t have a woman unless well paid for it.”

     He was gently frigging himself as he spoke, and had a glorious stand by the time he had finished, so throwing the end of my cigar into the fire, I knelt do wit by his side to examine that fine plaything of his.

     Opening his trousers more, I brought everything into full view—a priapus nearly ten inches long, very thick, and underhung by a most glorious pair of balls. They were surrounded and set off by quite a profusion of light auburn curls.

     I delicately handled each of those appendages. The sack of his balls was drawn up so deliciously tight; a sure sign of strength, and that they have not been enervated by too excessive fucking or frigging. I hate to see balls hang loosely down, or even a fine prick with very small or scarcely any stones to it—these half-and-half tools are an abomination.

     Gently frigging him, I tongued the ruby head for a minute or two, ‘till he called out, “Hold, hold, sir, or you will get it in your mouth!”

     This was not my game; I wanted to see his spend! So removing my lips, I pointed that splendid tool outwards over the hearth-rug and frigged him quickly. Almost in a moment it came; first a single thick clot was ejected, like a stone from a volcano, then quite a jet of sperm went almost a yard high, and right into the fire, where it fizzled on the red-hot coals.

     “By Jove, what a spend!” I exclaimed, “we will strip now, and have some better fun, Jack. I want to see you completely naked, my boy, as there is nothing so delightful as to see a fine young fellow when well formed and furnished in every respect. Will you suck me? That is what I like first; frigging you has only given me half a cockstand at present.”

     “You must be generous if I do, or you will not get me to come and see you here again,” he answered with a smile, which had almost a girlish sweetness of expression.

     “My dear boy,” I chuckled, “if your gifts have been well represented by their packaging, you need not worry o’er the extent of my generosity.”

     “Oh but they have been, sir,” he assured. “You have not been deceived by some artful illusion, as time will soon attest. But steal yourself against impatience, for you are unwrapping an expensive present, and its charms should be revealed slowly and savored.”

     “Very well, my friend,” I conceded. “But I must warn you, it is most often a misdeed to try my patience in such matters. In your case I will make an exception, as your tender and voluptuous demeanor is frankly bewitching. That first spend of yours was quite a thrill, and I could yet sacrifice a speedy spend of my own to indulge you in such a teasing game.”

     I lay him over the soft cushions of my couch, his lowering cock and balls still prominently displayed from his unbuttoned trousers, and then I set to work upon the buttons of his waistcoat and shirt. How snugly they fit him, fairly painted o’er the firm and dense muscles of his chest and abdomen. Each unmade button was a happy revelation; his body was lean and tight and unburdened by any mannish hair. The youthful glow fairly burst from each of the pores in his fair skin; I could feel the beat of his strong heart, the rise and fall of his trembling teats as his lungs filled with air. As his own hands reached and set about freeing me from the bindings of my own suit, I pushed the clothing from his shoulders, laying bare his tightly muscled shoulders and biceps. He was just a touch on the thin side, I mused, and could do with a few more meals, the likes of which we had so recently enjoyed; well, then, so be it!

     Peeling down his trousers revealed him to, at very least, be a man of his word. His arse was small and firm and muscular, that of an athletic boy’s even younger than this man’s years; his legs were smooth and slender as those of a young lady’s, long and supple. From head to toe, he was a sheer delight, and certainly I had had enough of this prolonged sensuality.

     We were soon stripped to the buff, and having locked the door, I sat down with this beautiful youth on my knee. We kissed each other, and he thrust his tongue most wantonly into my mouth, as my hands fairly traveled all over his body; but that glorious prick of his claimed most attention, and I soon had it again in a fine state of erection.

     “Now kneel down and gamahuche me,” I said, “whilst I frig your lovely prick with my foot.”

     Seeming to enter thoroughly into the spirit of things, he was on his knees in a moment. Now between my legs, he began to fondle my still rather limp pego most deliriously, taking the head fully into his voluptuously warm mouth, and rolling his tongue ‘round the prepuce in the most lascivious manner it is possible to imagine.

     I stiffened up at once under such exciting titillations, which seemed to have a like effect upon his prick. I could feel it with my toes to be as hard as a rolling-pin, and my foot gently frigged and rolled it on his thigh until thick drops of spend dribbled over my sole as it gently continued the exciting friction.